Absolute Sovereignty-Chapter 5: The Ghost of Laughter

Kaelen stared at the ledger in his chambers—trade agreements with Eryndel, troop rotations, coded missives from the Shadows. Dry ink blurred into nightmares: Garron's distrust, his father's hollow gaze, Selene's blade at his throat.

[Corruption: 0.8%]

[Memory Degradation: Partial loss of Garron's voice during your 14th summer.]

He snapped the ledger shut.

This is how it begins. The isolation. The erosion.

In his first life, he'd let the Voidwell devour every bond until nothing remained but vengeance. Now, the System's warnings echoed louder—"Do not become the monster."

Kaelen rose, grabbed two bottles of fig wine, and marched to Garron's quarters.

Garron answered the door shirtless, a dagger in hand.

"If you're here to brood—"

"Tavern. Now." Kaelen tossed him a bottle. "We're reliving the Great Fig Fiasco of '47."

Garron blinked. "The night you puked in Duke Malrick's wig?"

"And you set the brothel curtains on fire."

A slow grin. "Gods, you are mad."

"Mad enough to outdrink you."

"Oh, it's on, prince."

They stormed the tavern, claiming their usual corner—a scarred oak table sticky with ale. Garron slammed back his third drink as a bard massacred a ballad about dragon-sized... endowments.

"Remember when you tried to seduce that blacksmith's daughter?" Garron wheezed. "She tossed you into a trough!"

"You pushed me!"

"And then fell in trying to save you!"

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Kaelen laughed—a real, ragged sound—and the System dimmed.

[Corruption: 0.8%]

[Memory Recovery Detected: Garron's 16th birthday, fig wine stains on his mother's rug.]

Garron leaned in, cheeks flushed.

"You've been a right bastard lately. But this? This is the Kael I followed into every gods-damned ditch."

"The Kael who nearly got you hanged for stealing the High Priest's goat?"

"Best roast I ever tasted."

They drank. They arm-wrestled (Garron cheated). They heckled the bard until he played The Ballad of the Drunken Prince, a raunchy ode to Kaelen's "exploits." For a few hours, the Voidwell's whispers drowned in ale and familiar stupidity.

Midnight found them in Caldris' most infamous brothel, its lanterns casting ruby shadows over silk-draped corridors. Madame Vessa arched a brow.

"Prince Kaelen. We thought you'd sworn off women for... solo pursuits."

Garron choked on his wine.

Kaelen flung a coin onto her desk. "Rooftop suite. And send up Elara."

Garron froze. "Elara? The one who—"

"—stabbed you with a hairpin for grabbing her ass? Yes."

"You're a vengeful prick."

"And you're buying her a new hairpin."

The rooftop was a relic of better times—plush cushions, a view of the starlit plains, and a cracked marble tub filled with honeysuckle wine. Elara arrived with a tray of honeycakes and a dagger strapped to her thigh.

"No hands below the waist," she warned Garron.

"Unless you ask nicely!"

She rolled her eyes at Kaelen. "You've been scarce, Highness. Off playing hero?"

"Trying not to play corpse."

Her smile faded. "The Shadows are in every brothel, you know. They say the emperor's marked Caldris."

Kaelen tensed. The System flared:

[Soul Sight Activated: Elara - Ember-tier (Illusion magic). Loyalty: 65% (Neutral).]

Garron shoved a honeycake into his mouth. "Enough doom-talk! Kael, help me convince her to marry me."

Elara flicked a cake at his head. "I'd sooner bed a goat."

As they bickered, Kaelen let the noise wash over him—the clink of cups, Garron's booming laugh, the distant strum of lutes. For a moment, he could pretend the Voidwell didn't exist. That he was still the boy who'd raced horses through wheat fields, trailing laughter instead of shadows.

[Corruption: 0.8%] [Memory Restored: Garron teaching you to skip stones at Silverlake.]

Dawn found them sprawled on the rooftop, empty bottles littered like fallen stars. Garron snored into a cushion while Elara sketched obscenities on his back with charcoal.

Kaelen's head throbbed, but the weight in his chest had eased. He prodded Garron with a boot.

"Up. Father'll skin us if we miss the supply audit."

Garron groaned. "Worth it."

They stumbled into the streets, the rising sun painting Vernal Keep in hues of gold and rust. Garron slung an arm around Kaelen's shoulders, reeking of wine and poor choices.

"Whatever's eating you... don't shut me out again, yeah?"

Kaelen hesitated.

The truth clawed at his throat—I died. I'm dying. The Voidwell's in my veins.

Instead, he smirked. "Next time, you're explaining the goat theft to the High Priest."

Garron's laugh echoed through the empty streets, bright and unbroken.

[Corruption: 0.7%]

[Memory Strengthened: Garron's loyalty. Stability +10%]